


When Life Gives You Lemons

by nerdyrose24



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, One-Shot, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-23 11:21:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23477440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdyrose24/pseuds/nerdyrose24
Summary: The boys are about to face the hardest fight of their lives. The only way to get through it is together
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Kudos: 15
Collections: Stucky One Shots, Stucky Sick Fics





	When Life Gives You Lemons

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published fanfiction, but it's an idea I've had in my head for some time. Probably don't read if a cancer plot rings too close to home for you.  
> (Nice) comments and kudos appreciated!  
> I plan on writing more Stucky and maybe some Johnlock down the line :)

He was reading the newspaper when the door opened. Afterwards, he’d think how stupid that was – doing something so normal, so meaningless – when his life was about to change – again. His head didn’t snap around like it used to when he heard the slightest movement. Their life was different now. Hell, he was a lot different now. He knew there was nothing to be afraid of, but he’d hate himself for it afterwards nonetheless – for letting his guard down. 

So, slowly, so slowly, he pulled himself away from what he was reading and turned his head to look at Steve. A smile immediately spread across Bucky’s face; damn he looked good. Standing there, all blond and clean-shaven like that. Oh, he was begging to be kissed. 

“You shaved your beard – I like it,” he noted with a slight chuckle, as he crossed over to his boyfriend, and put his hands on his face. But Bucky knew instinctively that something was wrong. Why didn’t he just come straight in? Instead, Steve was just standing there, barely looking at him, an unreadable expression on his face. 

“You OK?”, he asked softly, stroking Steve’s cheek with his thumb. Leaning into the touch, Steve brought a hand up to cover the flesh one but let it go quickly. Hesitation. Now that wasn’t like Steve. Nor was the crack in his voice when he said: “I need to talk to you.” 

“What?” The paranoia was creeping back, but he saw the resolve on Steve’s face when he took his hand and led him back over to the corner sofa and tried to feel reassured. It was then he realised: Steve went to the doctor today and took a hell of a long time getting home. “Just routine” he’d said. That was wrong for a start. 

Steve kept hold of Bucky’s hand and even kissed it, as they sat not quite together, with the corner between them. Positioned like that, Steve could stare at the wall, if he wanted, which he certainly did as he couldn’t look at Bucky for more than 3 seconds. What on Earth could have happened to have made Steve so unsure of himself? Maybe it wasn’t something “on Earth”. That wouldn’t have surprised or terrified Bucky half as much as what was actually the matter. 

He only heard one word: cancer. 

He was hurtled into the past, de-aged eighty years so he felt like a scared kid. The world stopped. He couldn’t breathe; he certainly couldn’t think. This wasn’t happening; everything was swimming. Vaguely, he was aware of his heart thumping in his chest, and placative talking somewhere in the background. Wrenching his hand from Steve’s grip, he shot up, steadying his breaths, and left the room as if someone had announced there was a bomb in there. There was - it was him, and he could feel himself imploding.  
***  
Steve was worried, but he knew Bucky well. Granted, nowadays he could be unpredictable, and he had just received a shock. Hell, he had no idea what he might do. But he was just too exhausted to do anything about Bucky right now. He hoped that he’d come back once he’d cleared his head and maybe burnt off some steam with a run or a trip to the gym downstairs, in which he didn’t break anything too serious, or that couldn’t be repaired with some grovelling and a couple of hundred dollars. Or, he hoped that if he did start going off the rails, he’d do it while he was still in the tower surrounded by their friends who could hopefully talk him out of it. 

Feeling defeated, he put his face in his hands. The scary thing was, in his body, he felt fine, a little tired perhaps. He’d been really having to fight off the fatigue to finish a mission lately, but he was about a hundred years old now. Thoughts of retirement had entered his mind, although he knew Bucky still felt he had a debt to pay off and he’d want to continue working. For some reason, he didn’t like the thought of quitting work before Bucky did. He wanted them to stop together. In his mind he had conjured up a quiet life for them. Away from Stark Tower, upstate somewhere, somewhere quiet with wide open spaces … He still wanted that. They could still have that. He didn’t plan on dying any time soon. He tried to explain to Bucky before he stormed off, the promising advice Bruce had given him, but he really didn’t think he heard anything past the first sentence. The look of horror on his face, like a haunted kid … God, he hoped they could get through this. He had to let Bucky work through this on his own and wait till he came back to him. He always did, after all. 

Rising slowly, he resolved not to be worried anymore, and went to get a nice meal ready for later – hopefully dinner for two.  
***  
Luckily, Bucky had bumped into Bruce on his way out of the Tower – he had had no idea where he was going, he’d just felt trapped and a survivalist instinct to escape. Bruce calmed him down, in a way only someone with their own anger issues would be able to and sat him down in the lab. He had the feeling the doctor didn’t tell him anything Steve hadn’t already tried to earlier, but his head was clearer this time; the initial shock was over. He still felt like an idiot though, for acting like a child when Steve needed him most. 

It was because he felt like an idiot that he was now knocking on the door of his own apartment and taking deep breaths. A little too quickly, the door opened. Aw man, he’d worried Steve as well. He was leaning against the doorframe, his eyebrows knitted in an expression that was always either concern or disapproval. In Bucky’s eyes, he far more deserved the disapproval. But he had to be strong; had to be a soldier today. So, he walked straight in, anxiously rubbing his hands together as Steve closed the door and followed. 

“I’m sorry,” they both said at once. A smile crept across his face and he felt his hands being taken by Steve, whose face had relaxed into an expression of mirth.

“What are you sorry for, punk? It was me who acted stupid,” Bucky quipped. 

His expression softened even more: “Hey, you were in shock. Good thing I know you so well or I’d have been worried.” Bucky gave him the look – the one that said: you’re not kidding me or yourself here, Rogers. He thinks Steve missed it for once though because he asked: “Where’d you go anyway?” 

“Bruce,” he said simply. Steve nodded. “It seems like you guys have got things under control.”

“It’s still gonna be hard, Buck,” Steve said. “We just gotta hope that the doctors and the serum do their job and …“ He was hesitating again, that faraway look in his eyes. 

Bucky stepped forward and put his arms around Steve’s waist and moved their heads closer together, creating a little private space for them. “That Dr Banner is a smart guy. Seven PhDs and he’s not worried.” Then he lowered his voice to a whisper: “We can get through this.” 

Finally, Steve’s usually caste-iron composure collapsed, and he practically fell into Bucky’s arms, burying his head in his shoulder, and crying. “Sshhh, baby,” Bucky soothed, feeling like a kid again, but not so much the scared one, but the older, taller, more confident one who’d been looking out for a certain blond punk since the beginning of time, and didn’t plan on quitting any time soon. 

“I don’t want to put you through this,” he mumbled, muffled and between sobs. 

“Your pain is my pain, alright?” Bucky said. “Besides, cancer isn’t like how it was when we were kids. And we do have some pretty cool friends, with a load of knowledge, and money.” 

“Yeah,” Steve composed himself and withdrew slightly, sniffing away. 

In a way, Bucky had been taken back eighty years. He had to look after Steve again. Slotting back into this caring role was so familiar. The thought of Steve being sick had scared the hell out of him earlier, but now he was thinking rationally, he could see that they were in a way better position than they used to be; the science was better, they had money and Steve… Steve was so strong. But he still felt compelled to remind him not to play the hero all the time. 

“And with me, you never pretend to be strong, okay?” he waited for Steve to nod, which he did, eventually. Bucky could feel himself sniffing back tears now. “If you feel sick or angry or tired, I wanna know. You can take it out on me.” 

“Thank you,” he said in a quiet voice, and rested his forehead against Bucky’s. 

“Smells good, by the way,” Bucky noted, eventually, “what you’ve been cooking for me.” 

Steve pulled away and said with mock disgust: “Who said it’s all for you? Being sick is hungry work, you know.”

Bucky didn’t miss how his voice became so small at the end of that statement, so he pulled Steve into the kitchen. “We’d better get you fed, then. The couch is calling us. I think there’s some more bad movies on tonight. Fancy a snuggle later?” It was a rhetorical question. But Steve pulled him in for a quick kiss nonetheless and breathed: “I’d love to.”


End file.
